


I Have a Fix for That

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Protocols [1]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, that damned olive oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing?" Kennex eyed Dorian speculatively as the DRN touched the wall of the interrogation room to turn the glass milky with one hand, the other conspicuously hidden behind his back.</p><p>"Your leg," Dorian said as he brought his other hand forward, "is beeping. It's talking. All day long." To John's horror, what Dorian deposited on the table was a small bottle of olive oil. "Have you tried it by now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have a Fix for That

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻译] 我知道怎么修 by thegrumblingirl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096021) by [AntaresofJuly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntaresofJuly/pseuds/AntaresofJuly)



> It happened. I watched the Pilot, and I fell in love.

"What are you doing?" Kennex eyed Dorian speculatively as the DRN touched the wall of the interrogation room to turn the glass milky with one hand, the other conspicuously hidden behind his back.

"Your leg," Dorian said as he brought his other hand forward, "is beeping. It's talking. All day long." To John's horror, what Dorian deposited on the table was a small bottle of olive oil. "Have you tried it by now?"

John mumbled something unintelligible.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Not yet," John clarified in his usual barking tone.

"Well." Dorian gestured at him to step towards the chair.

"Well, what?"

"Your leg has taught me the ways of how a _synthetic_ talking incessantly could get on anyone's nerves. So _you_ are going to fix it. Now."

"Here?!"

"We can drive all the way to your house, if you like, but the facts remain the same."

"I'm not taking off my pants and... lubing my knee joint in the middle of the station!"

"Alright." Dorian grinned at him and grabbed the oil, turning towards the door, free hand hovering over the glass pane. "Coming? Curious how you're gonna explain that one to the Captain, though..."

Kennex stared at Dorian with all the fury of a man who'd spent seventeen months in a coma only to come back to _this_. "Fine," he growled. "Get out. Leave the oil."

"Nah, I'm staying."

John, who'd taken a step towards the chair, took two steps back. "Excuse me?"

"Just to check you do it right. If you let me help you now, I won't bother you again."

John's expression darkened, impossibly. "Oh, good. A bleeding heart, and a worry-wart."

"That's me, John." The obvious enjoyment that Dorian drew from being allowed to call him by his given name eventually won out against John's distrust of anyone pushing into his personal space. Dorian wasn't like the others, he reminded himself. He wasn't like other people, either.

"Fine." He unbuttoned his trousers as he walked towards the chair, catching a glimpse of the red light blinking at the juncture of his right knee. "I hope you turned off the cameras," he smirked.

Dorian rolled his eyes at him. "I thought you gave up your childish quest to get me to stammer like a schoolboy weeks ago."

"One can hope," John shot back. "After all, I'm the one with my pants down." He punctuated his words by pushing his jeans down to his ankles before sitting down on the chair, stretching out his bad leg for easier access. "Now what?"

Dorian crouched down beside him, his hands hovering above the synthetic limb for a few seconds. "This is excellent work. You should take better care of it, then it will take good care of you," he looked up at John with a disapproving look. John stared back for a moment before looking away.

"I know. I just... it still feels..."

"Alien? That's what you think the droids are sometimes, right? Not just you, all of the people here. That's what you think I am."

"No." John's eyes moved back to Dorian's, fixing him with a hard look. "No, not you." Dorian stared back up at him, but remained silent for a long minute, before he nodded. John nodded back, satisfied that Dorian believed him, at least. "Now show me how to oil this damn leg. Please."

Dorian stretched to reach for the oil and unscrewed the cap. "You have to find the right spots. Of course, you could just oil up the entire joint, but that won't do you any good, or the limb." Indicating two spots to the left and right of John's artificial knee, he continued. "This is where the oil needs to go to properly lubricate the joint. Technically, the wiring should be calibrated to figure the imbalances out on its own, but what with you mentally rejecting the limb, something is thrown off-kilter."

"How can an artificial knee know that I don't like it?" John grumped.

Dorian looked up at him again and smiled sadly. "Just like that." Without much of a warning, he laid his right hand on John's shin. Before John could regulate his response, his leg twitched at the touch -- except there wasn't any touch. And yet...

"Your mind can feel it, right? Just like you have phantom pains sometimes, your mind still knows what it's like for that leg to be touched. It's not the knee that knows, it's your mind. And your leg won't fully calibrate itself until you accept it." Dorian hadn't taken his hand away while he spoke, and John hadn't flinched his leg away. Still holding his gaze, Dorian waited until John nodded. "Now, oil up. We've got a case to solve once your leg stops talking."


End file.
